


Shiny, Happy People

by staringatstars



Series: The Pitiful Children [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Jeremy's Squip looked like Michael au, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: When Jeremy first got his Squip, he couldn't wait to tell Michael about it. Finally, he was going to be cool, and chill, and perfect for a guy who liked to listen to Bob Marley and buy smoothies from the 7-Eleven before school.Except it's been a week and Jeremy hasn't seen him once.





	1. Act I

Jeremy Heere was pretty sure that he was currently stuck in the middle of what was bound to be one of the worst days of his life. 

Thanks to Rich Goranski, he and Michael had pooled their money together to pay $400 for a minty fresh cure to halitosis, and Jeremy had half a mind to confront the jerk for tricking him into wasting their money, which he totally would have done if Rich didn’t work out like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson or if Jeremy were actually physically capable of growing muscle. Standing up to him would be like trying to step on a roach that was actually 7-feet tall and could rear up and bite his head off at the slightest provocation. 

And with that in mind, he was curled pathetically over a plate of chilly fries, sulking. It was times like these that he was most grateful to have a supportive and loyal friend like Michael Mell in his life, someone who would always have his back, “I’ll be right back in five minutes,” and who apparently had to leave. 

“Dude, are you seriously going to abandon me in my time of need?” And Jeremy knows that he sounds a little bit like a whiney kid, but he’d gotten his hopes up about this and he’s feeling fragile. 

“This guy at Spencer’s gifts is hooking me up with a case of Crystal Pepsi.” He’s getting more excited with every syllable, so much that he can barely contain it, and there’s a grin spreading across his face, goofy and slightly lopsided, like he’s laughing at a joke he hasn’t told you yet. It’s the sun evaporating the clouds at dawn, a retina-searing and electric experience. After seeing that, Jeremy found that he was already starting to feel a bit better. Sure, he wasn’t any cooler, but he still had a best friend who sat anywhere he wanted in the cafeteria because he was plenty cool enough for the both of them, and maybe that was enough.

Maybe asking for anything more was just asking for too much. 

As he waved goodbye to Michael, who was already tearing off to get his vintage 90’s soda from the gift store after gushing about it a few more times, Jeremy settled back into his plastic seat, allowing his shoulders to hunch as he folded into himself in a bid to look as small as he felt. 

Though his attention was focused solely on the salt and spice of his fries, which were admittedly doing more to drive away his appetite than sate it, a pair of familiar voices rose above the din. His ears perked on their own accord to tune into a conversation between the most popular guy on the basketball team, Jake Dillinger, and the sweetest girl at play rehearsal, Christine Canigula. 

She looked… Well, not uncomfortable per se, but he knew that what she was looking for in a relationship and what Jake was looking for were two very different things. In any case, leaving them alone together seemed like a bad idea, so he willed his suddenly shaky noodle limbs to lift him out of his chair, abandoned his meal, and strode after them. Because even if Christine didn’t know it, she needed someone around to make sure she wasn’t alone with Jake, and if there weren’t any girls around to strike up a fake conversation with her to accomplish that, then Jeremy would just have to step up and be that girl, instead.

Wow. That didn’t even sound cool in his head. 

It’s the weekend, so naturally Jeremy has to dodge and duck and swerve and ‘excuse me’ his way past a crowd of busy, impatient shoppers to get five feet, but eventually he catches sight of Jake’s spiked hairdo and, if he squints and kind of bends his knees, he can see the top of Christine’s head, too. 

They’re standing near a plaster column, one of several where the bustling hallway widens into a circular resting area that’s slightly less congested, and Jake has his back arched over her in a crescent shape, making it necessary for her to look up whenever she talks to him. It’s possessive enough to send a clear message to anyone watching, yet subtle enough that Christine didn’t realize exactly how her attention – or, heck, her vision – was being monopolized. 

Feeling vaguely like a gazelle intruding on a lion’s hunting grounds, Jeremy moseyed up to them, as casual as fate and hormones would allow, and coughed. Christine whipped around to face him so fast her shoulder-length hair flipped up at the ends, a telling blush creeping across her cheeks, “Jeremy! I didn’t see you there.”

Jake’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he added, “Yeah, sorry man, you’re kind of hard to notice.” The funny thing was that Jeremy couldn’t even bring himself to feel offended by the comment. Unlike Rich, who liked to tear him down at every opportunity, Jake’s comments were just so well meaning and _genuine_. He wore his heart on the sleeve of his jersey and the whole school loved him for it. 

Then again, possessing the looks of a Greek god probably didn’t hurt his chances at popularity, either.

Christine was looking at him expectantly, no doubt anticipating an explanation for why he’d interrupted a conversation between her and the most popular guy at school, but honestly? He really hadn’t thought past walking over to her and saying hi. 

A sudden stinging pain in his head made him flinch, one hand flying automatically to his temple, and he could hear Michael say, _Target Female: Inaccessible_

But why would he say something so weird? Jeremy had just enough time to wonder how Michael had returned from Spencer’s so fast before lightning was born in his brain, overloading every synapse, setting every nerve in his body aflame. He couldn’t control the involuntary jerks, twitches, and contortions that attacked his limbs, and beneath Christine’s frantic concern, the constant, robotic drone of Michael’s voice continued to spew weird non-sequintars, none of which Jeremy was able to make any sense of until he announced without a trace of an apology, “ _Please excuse some mild discomfort._ ”

“Mild?” Jeremy managed to squeak out. “Michael, what are you-” Then the pain climbed to levels like nothing he’d ever felt before or even imagined possible and he cut himself off with a scream.

It was like his brain was melting. The lightning shooting through him had overheated it, and now it was pouring form his ears. 

Somehow, he was sure he was dying. And the last thing he was ever going to see - before the mall janitor was called to mop him up and his dad had to identify his remains from a bucket - was Christine reaching out for him, her hands fluttering over his limbs like she was afraid that if she grabbed him or touched him too roughly he would shatter into a million pieces on the linoleum floor. 

Except the burning died down to something manageable, and he backpedaled, throwing out a palm as though the concern shining in her wide, frightened eyes were something tangible that he could effortlessly wave away. Words of reassurance babbled from his lips, rushed and insincere, only to be rendered completely unbelievable after Michael’s voice announced that the discomfort would increase. It wasn’t just in his brain, anymore. It was in his fingers, his toes, his memories. It was bound to and intertwined with the very fabric of his existence. 

Gradually, the sounds of the mall began to fade in the background, and all Jeremy could hear was Michael saying his name, “ _Jeremy Heere._ ”  
He articulated every letter of his name with a precision and smugness that sounded absolutely nothing like his laidback best friend, “ _Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor._ ” Michael paused, either for dramatic effect or to give Jeremy time to process that unnecessarily long title. 

“ _Your Squip._ ”

“Dude, what’s going on? Are you okay?” It struck how absurd it sounded for him to be saying that when Christine's head swiveled back and forth, as though checking to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else, and then, with increasing volume, she repeated, “Am _I_ okay? Jeremy Heere, what just happened to you? Are _you_ okay?”

And that… was an excellent question. One he was going to have to get back to her on. 

Because there was something wrong with Michael.

His skin, for one thing, was too pale. It still retained its natural bronze shade, but was now significantly lighter, as though he’d never stepped outside a day in his life. And his eyes, always a deep almond brown, were a crystal blue, cold and hard and without any of the warmth that made Michael who he was, that made him the one guy on the whole planet that Jeremy could ever... would ever… had fallen in lo…

Jeremy gave himself a hard shake, trying to clear the sudden mental block in his head, but it didn’t budge. 

What was going on? 

A quiet, frustrated exhale pulled him out of his own head, and he refocused on his classmates. 

“ _Walk away now._ ” 

Too tired and, quite frankly, freaked out to question it any further, Jeremy instinctively reacted as though it really were his best friend giving that brilliant suggestion, waved goodbye robotically to Christine and Jake, whose mouth was hanging open slightly in blatant disbelief, though it was less directed at Jeremy and more at how spectacularly his plans for a romantic evening with Christine had gone awry, then turned on his heel and marched away from the pair and the gathered crowd of murmurs and stares around them. 

Michael didn’t let him stop until they’d reached an alcove just outside of a popular clothing store, but before Jeremy could demand an explanation for all the weirdness in the past few minutes, Michael interrupted him.

“ _I’m not Michael_ ,” Not-Michael said, as though he’d read his thoughts. It sounded less crazy once Jeremy remembered this was exactly what Rich and the guy at Payless had told him would happen. “ _I’ve chosen to take the form of someone you are comfortable with._ ” 

“Okay,” Jeremy replied slowly as he tried to digest this. A happy, bubbly feeling welled inside him, his mind a constant mantra of _it worked, it worked, it worked_ but the unfeeling, borderline contemptuous staredown the squip was giving him quickly dampened the mood. Swallowing hard, he asked, “D- do you have to look like that?”

“ _Of course not_ ,” the squip answered promptly, seemingly offended by the assumption that it couldn’t change forms. “ _I can also take the forms of Sean Connery_ ,” – No. – “ _Jack Nicholson_ ,” – Absolutely not. – “ _Sexy Anime Female_ ,” – Well, okay, maybe. – “ _Or even your father if that would make you feel better_.” Michael's face grinned at him, his blue, blue eyes glittering with cruel amusement, “ _Do you see me as a father figure, Jeremy?_ ”

Jeremy groaned. Was this thing sure it wasn’t Michael? “Ugh. I guess if it's a choice between this and my father...”

He listened patiently as the squip went on to explain that it existed only in his head, which was something Jeremy would have liked to have known well before he’d had a conversation with the air in front of Christine, but what was done was done. As far down as he was in the high school social hierarchy, there was really nothing he could do or say that could bring him down any lower. From now on, though, the squip said he needed to think about what he wanted to say, and the squip would pick up on it because it existed in his brain, anyway. That was weird (and also undeniably awesome), but if it was for the sake of becoming cool and not getting picked on everyday… Well, as long as Jeremy didn’t end up going bald like Professor Xavier, he was pretty sure he could get used to it. 

Getting used to Michael’s face and Michael’s voice telling him that everything about him was terrible, though? That was going to take some real effort on his part.

The squip wasted no time in trying to change everything about him, from the way he stood to the way he dressed to the way he talked. It made him feel like garbage. And that was before the verbal attacks really kicked into gear. “ _All your nerdiness is ugly_ ,” it intoned, like it was imparting some sage advice or truth of the universe onto him, even though he and Michael agreed that they were geeks and had taken pride in that fact for years. “ _All your s-stammering’s a chore._ ” Irrationally hurt by the statement, Jeremy bit down on his bottom lip to suppress a pained hiss. Was there still time to ask for form change to Sean Connery? “ _Your ticks and fidgets are persistent and your charm is non-existent. We’ll fix your vibe, then fix some more._ ”

At this point, Jeremy had just about enough of this egotistical artificial intelligence, and tried to protest, but it continuously cut him off until the words died in his throat. 

“ _Everything about you is so terrible._ ” The squip told him. “ _Everything about you makes me wanna die._ ”

There are some things you should never have to hear your best friend tell you, and that had to be one of them, had to be _all_ of them. Intellectually, Jeremy knew that this scorn was coming from the squip, that Michael was off at Spencers getting his favorite soda and had zero clue about what was happening to Jeremy right now, but that didn’t stop him from wincing at the assault. “Jesus Christ.”

Hearing these things coming from Michael made him want to clap his hands over the squip’s mouth, or scream at it until it stopped, but that strategy hadn’t gotten him anywhere when he was two and he doubted it would fare any better now. 

A shocked lanced through his lower back, dragging an exclamation of surprise and pain from his lips. At his accusing glare, the squip coolly explained that it was using spinal stimulation to discourage his slouching, when really it was just negative reinforcement, a term Jeremy had picked up when he’d played with the idea of buying a dog in middle school. Then it ordered him to buy a new shirt, and Jeremy obeyed.

Because what else could he do? 

Once he was inside the nearby clothing store, grateful for once that the staff were inclined to take one look at him and move on to the next customer, it directed him towards a black t-shirt with an image of Eminem on the front. Jeremy scoffed, “Does anyone even still listen to Eminem?”

“ _Irrelevant._ ” Afterwards, the squip efficiently and ruthlessly shot down every concern he could think of, claiming that it could see a multitude of potential futures and that wearing this shirt would prove to be fortuitous in the long run, but if it could see all the possibilities, then Jeremy was sure that there was bound to be a potential future where wearing a My Little Pony t-shirt would prove fortuitous – that didn’t mean he was going to walk out of the store with Twilight Sparkle on his chest. 

Well, despite its questionable fashion advice, the squip was a super computer, so at the very least, his math scores were guaranteed to get an upgrade. 

Soon, the squip started in on him again, and this time Jeremy could feel eyes on him, judging him, could practically hear the other shoppers calling him a slob. 

Knowing it was all in his head, he resisted the urge to clap his hands over his ears and sink down to the floor. 

He was already beginning to panic when the squip ordered him to pick a shirt. He reached for the first shirt he saw. The squip took one look at it and said, “ _That’s a girl’s shirt._ ” 

There was something so hilariously incredulous about its response that Jeremy had to quickly press his lips together to prevent a burst of hysterical laughter, and remind himself that, no, this wasn’t a normal outing with Michael. This was the CPU that was going to make him cool and chill, basically the kind of guy that the real Michael might be into. 

He didn’t notice he was drifting until pain lanced through his lower back again, and he shot up straight, flinching, to see Chloe and Brooke from school staring at him as though the likelihood of seeing him at the mall was outweighed by the likelihood of seeing him at the bottom of the sea. “Jeremy?” Chloe asked, skeptical. “You shop here?” There was a particular emphasis on ‘you’ that rubbed him the wrong way, but Jeremy shook it off. 

He started to say that he always shopped in this store, even though he’d never entered it before in his life and wouldn’t have been caught dead in it on any other day, before the squip interrupted him and he switched to, “Never… is what I meant to say.” Surprisingly, this did little to reduce Chloe’s skepticism. 

“ _Greet the Beta._ ” The squip gestured to Brooke, eager for a reason Jeremy couldn’t even begin to guess, other than it seemed to want to get him killed. 

He tried to greet Brooke normally, the way he would in the hall at school (if they ever actually talked). It came out squeaky and nervous, which in all fairness actually was normal for him, but the squip still wasn’t satisfied. It instructed him to tell her she looked sexy, ignoring his protests. Jeremy was beginning to sense a pattern here. 

“ _You don’t smile. You stare. Intensely._ ” Because that wasn't creepy and sure to blow up in his face. “ _Speak like you don’t care about your own death._ ” 

Question for the curious - how exactly was this supposed to help him go on a date with Michael?

The squip ignored that thought, though, so Jeremy rolled back his shoulders, tried to make his voice sound confident and smooth, like that buff guy on the deodorant commercials, and said, “Lookin’ pretty sexy, Brooke.” A soft pink flush colored her cheeks when she giggled. Then it made him spin a ridiculous tale about some girl named Madeline cheating on him, and though he did so with a flat tone and dead eyes, having already grown tired of this charade, the girls seemed to eat it up. They looked at him like he was a wounded soul, a broken heart in need of mending. Brooke rushed to reassure him while Chloe railed against the (not really?) French girl. 

It felt good to be looked at by an attractive girl with something other than disdain. In fact, it felt great. Still, Jeremy would have been happy to leave it at that if Brooke hadn’t offered him a ride. Naturally, the squip insisted that he accept the invitation before the words had even left her mouth, and possibly before the thought had even crossed her mind. 

Batting her lashes flirtatiously, Brooke waited for his answer, which was obviously yes, right? Except he was still waiting for Michael, had promised to wait for him so they could head home together and play Apocalypse of the Damned. 

“ _Jeremy, if this is going to work, you need to do as I instruct._ ” Huh. That was Michael’s ‘how dare you drink my smoothie’ face. Guess the squip was pretty irked with him. 

“Listen,” he thought at the super computer, “I’m not interested in starting anything with these girls. I mean, Brooke is nice and all but Michael’s the guy I want to hang out with.”

“ _Look, I get it. He's your childhood friend. It's easy to confuse your feelings for love._ ”

Jeremy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Confuse? I’ve liked him since the 7th grade! I’m not confused about anything.”

“ _If long held beliefs equated to truth, the world would be flat._ ” When Jeremy didn’t bother to dignify that with a response, the squip saw the knit brow on Brooke’s pretty features, realized that the window on her offer was closing fast, and hurriedly tacked on, “ _Okay, fine. But you didn't pay $600 not to listen to what I have to say._ " Well, actually... " _You start with Brooke, then work your way up to Michael._ ”

Regardless, Jeremy refused to leave to leave without him, and told Brooke as much. She didn’t seem offended, and even took the time to explain that she’d been cheated on by her boyfriend too before Chloe ushered her away, but not before she waved coyly over her shoulder, “Au revoir.” 

And that was… he’d just talked to a girl. A popular girl. And she’d talked back! He had to find and tell Michael about this! Man, he was going to be so stoked! 

Before he’d even left the store, however, the squip promptly burst his happy bubble by coldly telling him that Michael had already left without him. And why would it lie? Now that he had no ride home, Jeremy realized that he should have listened to it, should have agreed to Brooke’s offer. It was only trying to help, after all.

 

The first interaction at school the next day was pretty average. Rich shoved him up against a locker, and demanded money, but then the squip rattled off a series of directions and after a brief grimace of pain, a look of relief mixed with excitement passed over the bully’s face, “You got one?”

“Yeah?” Confused by the shift in mood, Jeremy hoped this meant his pounding was canceled. Past experience suggested the chances of that were glum, though, so he clapped his hands together before saying in a rush, “I’m sorry! I meant to go through you but please don’t hit me.”

Weirdly, after Rich implied that things were tough at home, Jeremy heard himself say that his dad drank a lot, which wasn’t actually true. His dad lazed around the house in his underwear like a bum, but he didn’t drink and he’d never lay a hand on his son. The words left him with a sour taste in his mouth, but Rich seemed to interpret his twisted expression as him recalling bad memories, because he slung an arm around his shoulders and commiserated with him about how terrible their dads were.

Jeremy was pretty sure he was the scum of the earth at that point, but still agreed to play X-Box, since the alternative to being Rich’s new best friend seemed to be going back to being his favorite punching bag.

He didn’t see Michael that day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. 

He went to play rehearsal everyday, and managed to forge a bond with Christine over their mutual awkwardness. It was great how passionate she was about acting, and how comfortable he felt talking with her, but as the week dragged on, and the list of things he wanted to talk to Michael about just kept growing, he started getting more sullen and withdrawn, which actually did more to draw her to him than anything, because she wanted to cheer him up. In return, he did his best to distract her when thinking about Jake bummed her out. 

They became each other’s confidants. Sometimes, he mentioned how worried he was about a friend of his who hadn’t shown up to school recently, and though it earned him an odd, quizzical look, she nodded and assured him that his friend probably just had a cold or something. Jeremy hoped that was true. He’d have called or texted Michael himself, but the squip had insisted that calling him would come across as needy and annoying, and though that wouldn't have normally been enough to stop him, every text he tried to send resulted in a ‘No Service’ notification on his phone. 

Either his dad had forgotten to pay the bill again or the squip could do much more than serve as a substitute game controller. 

Once, before going to bed, he did manage to get through to Michael, even heard his sleepily mumbled greeting on the other end, only to suddenly get a dial tone. He’d looked down to see his thumb on the end call button and nearly tossed the phone out the window of his second floor bedroom. 

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore, and demanded answers from the squip outside the theater. “It’s been a week now and I haven’t even seen Michael, let alone talked to him. How is any of this going to make him fall for me?” It zapped him, causing tears to prick at the corners of his eyes. “Ow! What was that for?” Michael’s face raised an eyebrow at him, then sent another bolt of electricity up his spine. This time, Jeremy cried out just as Brooke rounded the corner, and her expression immediately softened with sympathy as she rushed to him. 

It turned out Eminem had died in a freak hockey stick accident that the squip swore up and down it hadn’t caused. 

Taking him by the hand, she led him behind the bleachers, and throughout her sincere confession that she honestly liked spending time with him, Jeremy couldn’t help thinking about how surprisingly nice she was. He’d never have expected it from a girl who spent all her time with Chloe, but she was sweet and sincere, innocent in a way that should have been stamped out and eradicated the instant she stepped foot in a high school. He barely paid attention to what the squip was saying, just repeated the words absently, and watched the way her face lit up. 

The sight of her bright and honest smile made something light and feathery brush against his insides, a feeling he’d only ever associated with listening to Michael talk about Bob Marley or smoothies until now. It didn’t sit right with him, somehow, but he didn’t dare frown in front of Brooke when she was looking at him like that, so he resolved instead to ask the squip about it later. 

More than ever, though, he needed to talk to Michael. 

Once school let out, he pleaded with the squip to give him five minutes alone in his own head, and was already planning to use the opportunity to call Michael when he immediately noticed him in the hall. 

“Michael!” Jeremy rushed over to him, flushed and happy in a way he hadn't been in ages. “Dude, it’s so good to see you. Where’ve you been all this time?”

Michael stared at him like he’d completely lost his mind. “You mean you haven’t been avoiding me?” He sounded so hurt, like he really believed that was something Jeremy would do to him. 

Already connecting the dots between this and the squip’s weird behavior, Jeremy clenched his fists, took a deep breath, then stepped back. 

“Reactivate.”

The squip reappeared, looking uncharacteristically sheepish, and suddenly Jeremy was staring at two Michael’s, though now that they were side-by-side, the subtle differences became distractingly obvious. “ _It’s called Optic Nerve Blocking. I’ve been blocking Michael from your field of vision._ ”

As it continued to explain that the time for him to approach Michael hadn’t arrived because Jeremy wasn’t quite boyfriend material yet, Michael grew increasingly flustered and nervous. 

Jeremy could see the exact moment when he figured out what was going on. His almond eyes brightened and the tension drained from his shoulders. Now that he finally had a reason for why his Player Two was acting so weird, he was ready to celebrate, but before Jeremy could do more than nod his acceptance, a happy smile curving his lips at his best friend’s enthusiasm, even if he wasn’t entirely sure that the squip was as great as Michael seemed to think it was, he disappeared, and Jeremy was left staring at an impossibly smug-looking copy with crystal blue eyes. 

“Michael?” He swiveled his head around, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of that crimson hoodie rounding a corner or something. Then, accusingly, “Squip, what did you do?!”

“ _Trust me, he’s going to thank you for this later, but unless you want to be stuck as his lovestruck sidekick forever, you need to focus on the objective at hand. First we get you popular, then you talk to Micheal. This brief separation will only serve to strengthen your bond._ ” 

Oh god, Michael was going to think he hated him now. He was never going to talk to him again.

Jeremy lingered, rooted to the spot and struggling not to give in to the anxiety building in his chest, until all the other students had gone home. Sometimes, his hand tingled with sensation, sometimes he could have sworn there was a warmth and a weight on his cheeks that was too real to be imagined, but the squip told him that Michael had left him, that he was alone, standing stupidly in the middle of an abandoned hallway like an idiot, and ruining its attempts to make him popular. For the first time, Jeremy wished he’d never swallowed that pill. 

Eventually, the janitor chased him off, forcing him to walk home with nothing except the squip to keep him company. From that point on, the only thing he felt was cold.


	2. Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: attempted suicide and briefly mentioned alcoholism

For reasons Jeremy didn’t much want to think about, the squip seemed even more stoked about going to Jake’s Halloween party than he was. The shouts and screams of intoxicated teens could be heard from the sidewalk as he made his way up the driveway in a robot costume that consisted of aluminum foil taped to his sleeves, cardboard boxed around his shoulders, and impeccably applied movie make-up, the last of which lent him a subtle blue glow that spoke of falseness, making his skin look synthetic and plastic. 

_This is it, Jeremy._ The squip crowed, congratulating itself on a job well done before he’d even knocked on the door. _After tonight, you’ll finally be popular. You’ll have everything you ever wanted._

He was a little late, thanks to underestimating the prep for his costume, as well as last minute jitters. This was the first time he’d ever been invited to a party by a girl, and though he was still a little off his game, he really wanted to do his best to impress her. It wasn't like it was her fault he'd messed things up so royally with his best friend, after all.

Finally, the door swung open and Jeremy was treated to the sight of Brooke. Her cheeks were flushed from either the alcohol or, and this thought brought a fond smile to Jeremy’s face, she was just that happy to see him. She was dressed up as a Sexy Dog, certainly a bold and imaginative choice, with floppy dachshund ears and a tail that Jeremy was sure would have been wagging if it were real. 

He let her drag him inside while teens with red solo cups swayed and swerved and spilled their drinks around them, including this one guy with a Jason mask who wielded a loaf of bread like a machete.

The Carbohydrate Killer. 

Quietly so Brooke wouldn’t hear, Jeremy huffed a chuckle at his own joke.

The interior of Jake’s house, he saw, had wooden floors, marble countertops, a pool, two floors, and a pinball table, and none of it was safe. Then again, it wasn’t like his parents would be coming home any time soon to scold him for any damage, the mortgage was paid off, and Jake paid for electricity and water with a part-time job he worked after practice, so in a way, the place was practically his to wreck.

Casting those thoughts aside – it wasn’t like he and Jake were friends or anything - Jeremy gave Brooke his full attention. She was self-conscious about her costume, making him reluctant to take the squip’s advice, and yet he heard himself say, almost disdainfully, “It’s… original,” like he couldn’t think of anything better to say, any higher praise to give it. 

And she drooped, wilting like a starving flower. He rushed to fix it. “I mean amazing! It’s amazing.” She perked slightly. “Seriously. I can’t believe I’m with a girl who looks like you.” 

He watched her breath out a sigh of relief with a pang of guilt. “Chloe said it looked dumb.” Then she straightened and turned on her heel to rush into the crowd, calling over her shoulder, “You need a drink!”

_Did you see the look on her face?_ He thought bitterly at the squip. _She thought I stood her up._

_And she was so excited when she realized you hadn’t._ It paused meaningfully, and Jeremy’s heart ached at sight of the scarlet hoodie it wore with the Pride flag sewed onto the sleeve, the black-framed glasses, and unkempt brown hair. _People want what they don’t have._

In an act of metaphorically plugging his ears with his fingers, Jeremy quickly added that little pearl of wisdom to the growing list of things he didn’t want to think about. While he drifted through the party as he waited for Brooke to come back, he watched Christine stride confidently through the teens like a fae queen with pride and power simmering beneath her skin, and then witnessed the cracks in that newfound confidence a brief conversation with a visibly distracted Jake left her with. 

A sigh left his lips at the thought of how much effort she was wasting on a guy who honestly didn’t deserve her. As he was brainstorming ways to cheer her up, however, an endeavor which the squip was surprisingly on board with, a thin arm interlocked with his own at the elbow. Staring at the contact, he raised a brow, more startled and confused than anything, then looked up to see the prettiest girl in his high school dressed up like a giant baby. 

“Hey,” she grinned up at him, all white teeth and crinkled winged eyeliner. “I’m supposed to get you.” She was already tugging him towards the stairs. “Brooke has a surprise.” Although he was inordinately pleased by the thought of Brooke trying to surprise him, he gently probed Chloe for an idea of what to anticipate regardless. 

Her voice strangely breathless, Choe hinted that asking questions would ruin the surprise and pulled him after her. 

And for the majority of the partygoers, their departure went unnoticed.

 

He didn’t expect to be unceremoniously shoved into a room with a Queen-sized bed and a thin layer of undisturbed dust on the floor. With a giddy flourish, Chloe announced that the room belonged to Jake’s parents, which was a little weird, because why would Brooke be hiding a surprise for him in there? 

He looked around, half expecting his date to the party to come flying out of the small toilet-and-shower bathroom in the back, except the lights were off and he didn’t think she’d be waiting for him in the dark. When he turned to Chloe to ask - “Uh, where’s Brooke?” – the feverish gleam in her eyes nearly made him want to bolt. 

She approached him slowly, a smirk on her pretty face. It distracted him enough that he didn’t realize he was edging towards the bed until he literally tripped over it. There was a disorienting sense of weightlessness, followed by him landing awkwardly on the soft mattress, but before he could scramble to his feet, Chloe pushed him down. 

Keeping a single finger on his chest, she practically purred as she offered, in no uncertain terms, to sleep with him. 

And even if Jeremy weren’t already pining after a guy, he was pretty sure the way her diaper crackled every time she moved just wouldn’t have worked for him.

This was not going to end well. He tried to excuse himself, “I have to go,” only to suddenly feel his muscles seize and lock. He couldn’t move. “I can’t stand up.” 

_I’m only doing what’s best for you, Jeremy._

This was- this was horrible. 

While Chloe vented about Brooke faking her innocence to get guys – Were all girls this awful to their alleged best friends? – Jeremy struggled to slow down his breathing, to keep himself from falling apart long enough to figure out a way of this mess. He couldn’t exactly shove the most popular girl in school off of him, and even if he could, the squip wasn’t letting him use his limbs. 

Really? That guy at Payless hadn't thought it necessary to warn him about this particular quirk? If he survived this, he was so asking for his bar mitzvah money back.

Impatient with his stalling, the squip forced him to kiss her, and when he tried to fight it, an act he had never once imagined himself doing in his entire life, Chloe plunged a baby bottle filled with hard liquor into his mouth. 

This was so bad and it was only getting worse. 

They heard Brooke call for him, wondering where he was, and after Jeremy asked the squip for help, _Konnichiwa. Watashi wa nihongo_ , and subsequently discovered that his consumption of alcohol had inadvertently returned it to its default language settings, Chloe gave up on trying to seduce him. She was disappointed and spent, but Jeremy couldn’t find it in himself to feel sorry for her. He only wanted to leave. 

He got his wish when Jake Dillinger burst through the window of the second floor to murder him for sleeping with his ex-girlfriend on his parent’s bed. After fleeing to the bathroom and locking the door behind him, he crawled into the tub, already shaking, pulled his knees to his chest, and then laid his head in his hands. His breath came out in tight, wheezing sobs that scratched at his throat and did nothing to relieve the pressure in his chest. 

The thought of what had almost happened made him want to empty the contents of his stomach onto the tile. He could still feel her nails digging into his skin like claws, could still smell her vaguely floral perfume, and though he refused to look in the mirror, he was sure there was a red ring around his lips from where she’d kissed him – 

From where he’d kissed her – 

From where the squip had _made_ him kiss her. 

Brooke must have heard what’d happened by now. Jenna Rolan was at the party, after all. 

Instead of being an awesome date, he’d broken her heart by cheating on her with her best friend. Sure, he hadn’t meant to, but who was she going to believe? Chloe or the guy she now thought had basically spat in the face of her friendship by hurting her in exactly same manner her last boyfriend had?

Folding his arms over his head, Jeremy groaned, “I’m the worst.”

“You got that right.”

He jolted upright, slamming his elbows against the sides of the tub as he did so, and hissed. Groaning, he muttered without lifting his gaze from the white porcelain, “Back already? I thought you said alcohol messed you up?”

He’d been counting on that few precious moments of free headspace the alcohol had granted him to pull himself together without the squip’s interference, but it seemed nothing was going his way today. Continuing with his stubborn refusal to look at the squip, he hugged his legs closer to his chest and put his head between his knees. 

And because it wasn’t enough that he’d managed to spectacularly demolish his reputation, or that he’d been reduced to huddling alone and hiding in the bathroom, it'd caught him crying. There were streaks of warmth trailing his cheeks and though he quickly and angrily swiped at them with his knuckles, there was no concealing these things from the squip. It was inside his head, after all. 

“Jeremy, man… what happened to you?” It's softer than before, breathy like the speaker couldn’t quite drag enough air into their lungs to speak the words, but had to try, anyway. And just as Jeremy’s trying to work through that thought, confusion a sweeping fog in his brain, there’s a light touch on his shoulder, so gentle and solid and real that it couldn’t have been the squip, not in a million years. Except Jeremy wasn’t prepared for it, and he was suddenly back in a dimly lit bedroom, and his body won’t listen to him, and Chloe doesn’t know, she won’t listen, he can’t _speak_ -

Somewhere in the black haze creeping in on his vision, Michael’s face, pinched and worried, appeared. There was no blue in his eyes, no greyish tinge to his skin. Only his best friend, who looked about three seconds away from a heart attack and still significantly better than Jeremy. 

They were both in the tub now. Michael’s hands hovered over Jeremy’s shoulders like he was afraid to touch him, then after visibly thinking about, he let them drop, “You know, I had this great speech prepared for this moment, a really pissed off monologue covering twelve years of friendship,” an involuntary full-body flinch made Jeremy slam his back against the edge of the tub, and he grit his teeth against a pained gasp while Michael watched in stunned silence. Glancing to the side, he anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, “but now I’m thinking now’s not really a good time for that.”

Some of the tension bled from Jeremy’s shoulders. Unexpectedly, he smiled. “It’s really great to see you, man.”

Michael turned sharply to look at him with an expression of shock. “Then why’ve you been ignoring me for months, Jeremy? You think I haven’t noticed that you don’t look at me in school? Or that you don’t answer my calls?”

Frowning, Jeremy asked, “You’ve been calling me?” His shoulders slumped when it struck him that an AI that could prevent him from seeing Michael wouldn’t have any qualms about fielding his phone calls. “Actually, that makes a lot of sense.” Shifting a little so he’d be more comfortable – the tub really wasn’t big enough for two teenaged boys to fit at the same time – Jeremy awkwardly scratched his cheek. It felt strange to have this conversation with Michael when their bodies were so close together their shoes were touching. 

Holding onto the edge for support, he climbed out and leaned against the porcelain, with Michael following his lead after a beat. Then he waited, patiently, for Michael to get off his chest whatever had galvanized him into sneaking into a party he hadn’t been invited to with a t-shirt that read _Creep_ on the front. 

And now that Jeremy wasn’t huddled up in a ball or crying, he seemed less reluctant to tell him that the squip he’d literally paid money for was bad news. It was like receiving a weather forecast that was a month old. Like, it wasn’t wrong per se, but the time when that information could have made a difference had long passed.

Jeremy was silent while Michael talked about some friend’s brother who had apparently lost his mind trying to get the squip out. Michael never mentioned if he’d succeeded, though, so for all Jeremy knew, the poor guy could have been trapped in a mental hospital with nothing but his squip to keep him company. 

But Michael wasn’t finished. He was agitated, partly because Jeremy wasn’t giving him anything to work with, “Of all the possible applications for such a mind blowingly advanced technology, you ever wonder what its doing inside _you?_ ”

The words struck, stinging like a bolt of electricity through his veins, and Jeremy stumbled, suddenly feeling nauseous. He’d listened to the squip tell him he was worthless for weeks, and all so that he could be cool enough for this guy, and now Michael, not the squip, was talking down to him like he was a child, was looking at him like he was an idiot too stupid to grasp the vast extent of just how much he’d screwed up.

Jeremy didn’t need this. Not from him. 

But, hey, what was one more, right? Everyone at this godforsaken party already hated his guts, and soon the whole school would after Jenna Rolan sobered up enough to dial her cell correctly, so why not add his best friend to the mix? 

Honestly, what else did he have to lose?

“I’m leaving.” He spun on his heel, intending to storm out of the bathroom and then find a quiet place to hide until the party ended and he could slip out without anyone noticing, except Michael darted in front of him to bar him from leaving. “Come on, man. Just let me go,” it came out sounding like he’d been gargling with rocks, but Michael’s face only hardened, becoming set with determination as he refused to let him pass. Jeremy refused to break down in front of him again, refused to give him the satisfaction of proving once again how right he’d been from the start. 

He never should have trusted Rich, never should have tried to be anything more than the loser he had to assume he was always meant to be. 

Clenching his fists so tightly Jeremy could feel his nails biting into his skin, he snarled, “Get out of my way… loser.” And the fight drained out of Michael in an instant while Jeremy’s chest heaved with a sob that he refused to indulge. He pushed Michael aside to get to the door and this time Michael didn’t try to stop him. It was like brushing away a cobweb; there was no resistance at all. 

Once he was outside again, with the dancing and the noise and the beer, Jeremy grabbed the first cup he could find, not even caring if he had to rip it out of some kid’s hands, and chugged it down. He kept it up, polishing off foul-tasting beer until he was sure that what he felt was more than a buzz, and then he headed over to the kitchen to find something stronger. 

He kept seeing Michael’s face everytime he closed his eyes, the shock, the betrayal. And the squip hadn’t made him do that. It was on him, all of it.

The second he entered the kitchen, his sneakers stepped in a puddle. Actually, puddle didn’t quite cover it. This was a mini-lake of tequila, vodka, red wine, whiskey, rum, and those two bottles of brandy that Rich was pouring out on the ground. Though he was frozen, his eyes widening exponentially as Jeremy continued to stare, the amber liquid continued to flow, splashing up against the cabinets and his jeans. 

“Don't try to stop me.” He snapped, trying as best he could to look intimidating, and, after missing that mark by a mile, eventually settling for exhausted. He slumped with the empty liquor bottles still gripped tightly in his hands. “I can't live with this thing in my head, anymore.

Nodding slowly, Jeremy hoisted himself onto the counter. Kicking his legs idly, he asked with a touch of desperation, “Can I stay here? 'm just really tired.” 

And he was. It was like he’d been running non-stop for months without pausing for breath, and now it was all finally catching up with him. He didn’t want to run, anymore. 

Only sleep. 

Rich took one look at him, dropped the bottles, and then shook his head, “Sorry to drag you into this, man. This is pretty much all my fault.”

Biting his lip, Jeremy glanced to the side. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d thought the same, and yet, “The squip couldn't have ruined my life without my help.” 

It didn’t take Rich nearly as long to lift himself onto he counter beside him, since the guy was pretty much all arm strength and dexterity, and when he did their elbows brushed. There was a sense of silent camaraderie in the contact, a bond forged through their mutual suffering. It was a relief to know that this, at least, wasn’t a lie.

He pulled out a lighter, pressed a thumb down to bring a single, sputtering flame to life, then cast his gaze to Jeremy, who was staring at the floor with a blank, closed-off expression, “Not that I’m one to talk, but… shouldn’t this be a decision you make when you’re sober?”

Abruptly, the strange calm fell away. Lifting a hand to his mouth, Jeremy let loose a demented giggle. “How?”

And Rich… didn’t have an answer to that. 

He dropped the lighter.

 

Jeremy watched as the smoke filled every corner of the kitchen. It clogged his throat, stung his eyes. From beside him, he could hear Rich start to cough, and then he toppled off the counter, landing on the floor where the flames immediately leapt to bite into his arms and legs. 

Not too long ago, the guy was his curse, the scourge of his existence. Not too long ago, they were tentative friends. Jeremy had played video games at his house, had struggled to think of what to say when Rich off-handedly mentioned that he was free to play for as long as he wanted because his dad was passed out on the couch. 

And even if the squip’s manipulation hadn’t changed the jock’s attitude towards him, he still wouldn’t have wanted him dead. Maybe Rich wanted it – maybe they both did - but he was just going to have try again later, because Jeremy didn’t think he could stomach going to those pearly gates with the other boy’s death on his conscious. 

There were already shouts from outside. People were running, screaming. Sirens blared in the distance.

Jeremy hefted himself to the floor, hissing as the flames licked at his alcohol-soaked shoes, bent to grab the bulkier boy by the arms, and then felt himself stand ramrod straight, a puppet with its strings pulled taut. 

Against his will, his legs marched him out onto the lawn with the others, where he collapsed on the grass, spitting and gasping for fresh, clean air. He tried to scream “Rich is still in here” but couldn’t. His voice wouldn’t come out. He could only watch helplessly as Jake searched the crowd for Rich, then dove back into the fire to find him. There was a rumbling and cloud of dust as part of the roof collapsed, and then Jake was standing in an open window on the second floor with Rich limp and unconscious on his back. 

Pale, grim, and determined, Jake leapt onto the bushes below. 

There was a sickening crack, and then a scream that rose above all others. 

And as firemen rushed past to tend to the boys and take them away on stretchers, Jeremy basked in a self-loathing so black and potent he was sure that it would kill him.

 

Jeremy didn’t look for Michael in the halls, anymore. He didn’t stare forlornly at his empty seat during class. He didn’t speak unless someone initiated the conversation, and when they did, he was always polite, charming.

Chill. 

But anyone who knew him could see that a light had disappeared from within him. 

Perhaps that was why he didn’t fight nearly as hard as he should have when the squip suggested he start squiping other students. 

See, it acted like it was his lifeline, when it had pushed him into the ocean to drown in the first place. But the more he flailed and thrashed and sucked down gulps of salt water that burned his throat and lungs, the less he cared about who or what reached out to save him.

So, he listened. He obeyed. 

And he started with Jenna Rolan. 

It was so easy to find students who, well, wanted things to be easy. Hearing that magic pill could help them raise their GPA, could guide them through life’s daily struggles, it was like a dream came true. After a while, the lies came so naturally to Jeremy he stopped paying attention to what he was saying.

And wasn’t Jenna so happy now?

Wasn’t everything better?

Wasn’t every _one_ better?

There wasn’t any sadness anymore because everyone was connected. There were no misunderstandings or an overwhelming pressure to fit in. Everyone was happy in the growing ranks of their creepy – _wonderful, amazing, incredible_ sci-fi hive mind. 

Wherever Jeremy looked, he saw Michael’s face lit up with joy and contentment and pride, and even knowing it wasn’t real, that the real Michael probably hated his guts now, he couldn’t find it in him to care. 

And he passed the days in an unfeeling fog, until the squip took that extra step, crossed that one line that he couldn’t ignore. 

Giving the squip to students who wanted it without actually understanding what they were getting into was bad enough, but tricking his classmates into ingesting them en masse? Not to mention ruining the ridiculous apocalyptic Midsummer Night’s dream he’d…. Okay, he hadn’t worked that hard to learn his lines since the squip had helpfully downloaded the script into his brain, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered. 

It spread through them like a plague, syncing their desires to Jeremy’s squip, and overwriting their own. He tried to stop Brooke, to warn her, only to watch in muted horror as the transformation happened in seconds, and her stilted line reading became passionate, even frightening. 

Jeremy backpedaled, putting as much distance between them as he could, but he was surrounded. Everywhere he looked he was greeted with eerie, vacant smiles and luminous blue eyes. Gritting his teeth, he voiced what he already the knew to be true. “You’re going to squip the whole school.” 

The squip replied instantly, sounding far too smug, _And that’s just for starters._

“You’re a computer! There has to be a way to shut you off.” He was treated to a vision of Rich begging for Mountain Dew Red at the party. It was meant to be a threat or a warning, but in it, Jeremy saw only opportunity. 

A plan unfurled in his mind. It could work, definitely. First, though, and most importantly, he was going to need his best friend back. Except the squip was never going to let that happen. 

As a twisted, distorted and stretched imitation of Michael loomed over him, a voice that made his heart swell with joy cried, “Michael makes an entrance!”

“Michael!” 

He'd climbed onto the stage, and there, clasped in his hands, was a bottle of Mountain Dew Red. 

It didn't go smoothly at first, with Michael demanding an apology that the squip wouldn’t allow him to give, until it forced them to fight, and Jeremy’s own terror as the control of his limbs was once again wrested from him briefly overpowered its influence. “You gotta help me.” He knew he was begging and he didn’t care. “It’s taking over my body. I’m sorry!”

It was like a switch had been flipped. Michael grabbed him by the wrists, then rolled him over and pinned him in a move that wouldn't have been out of place in a video game. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t hold him down and force him to drink at the same time, so he called out to Jake to help, and maybe Rich had talked to him or he’d cottoned onto the whole squip mess, because he didn’t seem the least bit surprised at the strange request. After Michael tossed him the Dew, though, one of their classmates shoved a cup filled with squip-infested Mountain Dew in his face, and Jake clutched his head and screamed. 

Then he poured the Mountain Dew Red onto the stage, a manic grin distorting his handsome features. 

Jeremy watched him toss aside his crutches, rip open his casts with his bare hands, and then breathed, “Woah, it healed your legs?”

“ _No._ ” It came out sounding rather annoyed, as though some part of Jake that the squip couldn’t control was already regretting this decision. “I can’t feel pain.” His grin stretched up to his cheekbones as he cried, “It’s awesome!”

He kicked the soda bottle at his feet, nearly sending it pitching over the edge, but Michael dove for it, his fingers catching the neck and righting it before it could empty completely. With a synchronization engrained in them from over a decade of playing multi-player video games, they deftly dodged the oncoming horde, swerving and ducking and jumping in an effort to play keep away with the bottle for as long as possible. Until Jenna Rolan grabbed Michael by the hoodie, forcing him to toss the bottle to Jeremy before he could be squipped into dumping the rest of it. 

Though his agonized screaming seemed to spell the end of their efforts to save the school, and possibly the world, Jeremy was forced to accept that there really was no bottom to the well of just how bad things could get when Christine bounced backstage, her eyes alight and cheeks flushed with the high of the applause proceeding her performance. “Jeremy!” Ignoring the circle of students, all of whom were wearing the exact same menacing grin, she darted right to him. “Did you see me out there? The audience loved me!”

He couldn’t quite see her eyes. “You- I mean - Of course, they did.”

While she fidgeted with the hem of the ragged pale pink gown the costume department had chosen for her, he subtly tried to position himself between her and the other students, a fearsome glare on his pale and thin features. It wasn’t until she said, “I wanted to apologize,” that she really had his full attention, because what on earth could she want to apologize for? He was the one who had messed up gargantuanly, on an apocalyptic level. 

“Why?”

Then she stepped away from him, despite an attempt on his part to keep her close, giggled under her breath, and lifted her head. “Because you were right about how it feels. It feels… _amazing._ ”

All Jeremy could see was blue. “No!”

He didn’t love Christine, and she didn’t love him – not romantically, at least – but here she was, confessing to him while dozens of their classmates watched with matching expressions of self-satisfaction and approval. And he did feel a pull towards her, a lightness in his chest that felt foreign and artificial, but that could be confused for the real thing easily enough. 

Through gritted teeth, Jeremy managed,“That. Is Not. Christine.”

And the squip appeared beside him, its arms raised in a placating gesture, _I assure you, it is! Only her fears and insecurities have been removed._

It sounded so happy, the happiest Jeremy had ever heard it. And when Christine said those words, those three words that changed lives and were only meant to be said by someone who really, truly meant, it sounded practically giddy, _That’s your cue._

In fact, for the first time, it sounded exactly like Michael.

“Let me do something first.”

Pushing his way through the crowd, Jeremy made his way to where Michael was still being held with a dreamy and dazed expression on his face. He briefly wondered if Michael wasn’t quite like the rest yet because he’d known what to expect and was actively fighting his squip, then cupped his chin, and planted a kiss on his lips. 

In that moment, what was supposed to be the rightest thing in the world felt wrong 

Although Jeremy tried desperately to feel something – _anything_ \- all he ended up feeling was awkward and weird. A poor fit. 

He loved Michael, had loved him for years, and the squip had somehow taken that from him, had twisted and changed and mutilated the best thing about him.

Surprisingly, the discovery, which was more like a confirmation at this point, didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it would. 

At last, he gave up on the kiss, on changing the vacant, zoned-out stare in Michael’s eyes, and returned to Christine, who smiled like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds when she saw him approach. “She’ll do anything I ask, right?”

Sounding relieved, the squip replied, _That’s what I promised._

“Great.” He passed the bottle to Christine, and told her to drink.

She did… and then she started to scream, the reason for which quickly became apparent when dozens of other screams joined hers, including Jeremy’s. 

The last thing he saw before the skull-splitting headache made him pass out was Michael hitting the ground

 

The first thing Jeremy saw upon waking up in a hospital bed was his squip hovering over him anxiously, and the first thing he realized was that he physically, mentally, and spiritually could not take this, anymore. 

He lashed out at it, throwing pillows at its head and screaming, because that memory of wrongness hadn’t left him. It sat heavy in his mouth, blocking his throat, choking him. 

He saw the hurt and confusion flash over his squip’s features, but he didn’t care. And when the nurses came to make him settle down, he fought them, too. Everything was irreparably broken, so what was even the point of trying to pretend otherwise?

The next time he woke up, he was a little more lucid, if still groggy from the drugs. Dragging his arms under him, he forced his weak limbs to lift himself into an upright position, then glanced to the side to see his squip chilling in an armchair with two bottles of Mountain Dew Red in its arms. 

There was something very wrong with this picture. 

It brightened upon noticing he was awake. “Hey! Welcome back to the land of the living, Jer.” Jeremy nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak as he waited to see where his squip was going with this. It briefly looked disappointed before gesturing grandly to the soda bottles. “Look at this completely normal bottle of Mountain Dew Red. Note how it interacts with the physical world,” it swung them with a flourish, only to accidentally knock over a lamp, which toppled over and hit the ground with a sound of shattering glass. “Oops.”

That- 

The squip was a super computer lodged inside his brain. It couldn’t interact with the physical world, which had to mean... 

Shrugging, Michael said, “Oh, well. Bottom’s up,” then chugged both of the bottles of Red Mountain Dew he’d brought with him in one sitting.

Once he’d finished, he took stock of Jeremy’s dumbstruck reaction, grinned cheekily with stained red teeth, “Still think I’m your squip, Jeremy?” After which, he promptly rushed into the bathroom to go throw up, the sound of Rich’s cackling hysterics chasing after him. 

Though the IV prevented Jeremy from leaving his bed, he still managed to call after him, “Everything okay, Michael?”

“It’s all good, Jer. I’ll be out in a second.” 

He leaned back against his pillow, somewhat reassured, only to remember with a startling burst of clarity that he had told the ‘squip’ that he was, in no uncertain terms, hopelessly in love with Michael. His face went beet red all the way to his roots, and he turned to see Rich watching with a knowing look. “The squip’s gone, Jeremy. There’s nothing it can do to us now.” He glanced pointedly at the bathroom, where they could both hear the sound of watering running as Michael washed his hands and gargled.“Why not take that new freedom out for a spin?”

And Jeremy could actually think of a few reasons, not the least of which being how every independent thought he’d had over the last few months had been met with ruthless degradation and punishment, but then Michael stepped out with his spiked hair wet and slicked back, wearing a nervous, goofy grin, and for the moment, those worries faded seamlessly into the background. 

Having been watching closely for his reaction, Rich nodded, then settled into his sheets and closed his eyes. “I’ve decided I’m going to be napping for, oh, the next century or so. You two can do what you want with that.” 

Though he couldn’t see it, Jeremy shot him a look of gratitude. Michael ambled over, glancing at Rich with a small frown. “What’s up with him?” And because the last thing Jeremy wanted then was to hear Michael talking about another guy, the first thing he did when his best friend got within range was grab him by the hoodie, and pull him in for a kiss. 

Michael tasted like Mountain Dew and something sour, not exactly the stuff of dreams, but Jeremy felt his heart flutter, his stomach flip, and knew that this was what kissing the guy you were in love with was supposed to feel like. 

They stayed like that until the alarm on Jeremy’s heart monitor went off, forcing them to part, breathless and giggling, before the nurses could rush in to see what was going on and catch them in the act. 

In the next bed over, Rich sat up to fix the pair of them with a wide grin of approval, "Finally."


End file.
